With All My Heart
by xShirochanx
Summary: Ichigo always had such a display of affection for his mother - a short piece on Isshin's struggle to restore it.


"Momma, Momma, lemme help!" Ichigo shrieked, hurrying into the kitchen after that furling purple skirt.

Masaki embraced him, and he radiated with joy. It was constant, how much attention he gave his mother. There was a hug at least every fifteen minutes, as he followed at her heels from one side of the kitchen to the other. They thrived off each other - Isshin could see that. How did he feel... was that jealousy? As he watched the two, it drew his curiosity and yet it made his heart pang. It was a little difficult to watch another man be so enamored by his wife.

Ichigo began fawning, exclaiming his love for his mother as he carefully dug out the vegetables she'd requested. There it was again, once the vegetables were on the counter he flung his arms around her waist once again. _He is my son, _Isshin reminded himself, as he forced his attention back to his paperwork. No harm done really, although perhaps he felt a little bad that his son was so soft. But Isshin had never raised children before, he often wondered if he was doing it right. Surely there's nothing wrong with loving his mother, but he still cries as badly as the twins.

Isshin shook his head.

Ichigo was cheering, "Momma! Momma!" again. There is no harm in that, Isshin reminded himself. He'd grow out of the crying, surely, but right now Isshin loved him so deeply that it didn't really matter.

Then Masaki passed. It ripped Isshin's world apart, just as it had for his children. He tried hard to be there for the kids but he was just a mess himself, and he wasn't able to facilitate the best environment. About a month was already gone once he realized he'd been neglectful. In attempt to pull himself out of this depression, Isshin bought a handful of prints of his wife to hang around the house - that way he wouldn't feel so lonely.

Isshin framed and hung each one. Now he could see her beautiful face in every room of the house.

Once the children came home from school, Isshin showed the three of them the new pictures. The girls celebrated it alongside Isshin, together they smiled and declared their love. But Ichigo didn't. His expression was blank, but Isshin could see him trembling as he looked at his mother. Suddenly he wanted so badly to hear his son fawning again, with enamored excitement. But he was just scared, and that makes Isshin afraid too. He'd been too busy mourning, and now he was losing that son too.

So Isshin demonstrates it, the only thing he can think to do. _This is the way we treat Momma, _he mentally states as he cooes over his wife's picture.

But it doesn't seem to work, over the next few days Isshin watches his son dodge the new pictures all over the house with his head bent towards the floor. During the night sometimes Isshin sits at the bottom of the stairs and he can hear his son sobbing.

It makes Isshin's heart ache, because he doesn't know how to fix it.

So, Isshin went back into town and he had a poster made for the dining room. His shinigami days had only taught him one way to solve a problem - perserverance. So that is what he does. Isshin commits to it, replicating the energy and joy he had seen from his son, as he adores the new poster before them. Hoping, that he can re-spark that. He can't have his wife back, but Isshin prays that he can bring his son back around.

It was over a year later, and Isshin had been careful not to push too hard for the last few months. The topic had been sensitive with the passing of the anniversary of his wife's death, but he dared to continue now to try to return that light to his son.

While Ichigo was in the room, Isshin threw himself into a hug, fawning over the poster with all the energy he could muster. He shouted his affection, unfalteringly. Ichigo stood from the table, haughty annoyance burning in his eyes.

"You look like an idiot," The ten-year-old muttered as he left the room.

That night Isshin sobbed, his beer growing warm in the center of the table as he sat hunched and trembling. That was it then, he understood, it was lost for good. He would never see that from his son again. How it pained him that that innocence had disappeared - replaced by an icey self-hatred. The girls were almost seven now, and they too were faltering. Their enthusiasm was worn out.

Isshin didn't stop, because he was really quite terrible at giving up. Some days he could really feel it - the exuberant affection. Then some days it hurt like hell, but he'd do it anyway even though all he wanted to do was sob because he missed her so awfully.

Regardless, he made himself keep it up, with the faint hope that someday he could see his son smile at his mother again.


End file.
